The Righteous Man and the Guardian Angel
by siriusleeroy
Summary: Sam, Dean and Bobby are caught in the middle of the final battle between Lucifer and Michael. The angels have a few surprises up their sleeves. Dean finds himself left alone to raise a young child while Castiel disappears for a year.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_The lawn in front of the house._

"I'm so glad all of you could make it." said Lucifer in a drawling voice.

"Satan! You son of a bitch. What is the meaning of this?"

"Careful now Dean. You might want to rope in your anger. Good to see you, Sam." said Lucifer nodding his head towards the younger Winchester brother.

"Will someone explain what's going on?" said Bobby

"Ah, Bobby!" said Lucifer, smiling.

"Okay, listen here Lucifer. Why have you brought us here? Of all places?" said Sam earnestly. He shot a quick look at Dean, making sure that his older brother was standing firmly next to him.

Dean clenched and unclenched his fist, sweat gathering on his brow. He had a very, very bad feeling about this.

"This is a little farewell party I've organized, if you may. What better place to host it than where it all began?" said Lucifer.

Dean and Sam looked up at their childhood home, dark and desolate. It looked like it had been uninhabited for years.

"So," said Lucifer clapping his hands together, "here's what we're going to do. You and I are going to walk inside that house, Sam. And then Dean here, will follow like a good boy."

"What makes you think we're going to do that?" spat Dean.

"My brother, Michael will come after us, soon enough," said Lucifer, rolling his eyes, pretending to ignore Dean, "and then, it shall all begin."

"You're telling me that you are going to fight Michael tonight? In that house?" asked Bobby.

"Yes, and I need my boy Sam, here for that. This vessel will be of no use."

"And you just assume that Sam is going to say 'yes'?" said Bobby.

"Yes." said Lucifer simply.

"And you're confident that Michael is going to show up and that Dean is going to say 'yes' to him as well?" asked Bobby.

"Yes. Bobby, I've done my homework." said Lucifer, cracking his knuckles, "now, boys, why waste time? Lets get this party started. Sam, after you." he said showing him the front door entrance.

"Give me one good reason Lucifer," hissed Dean, "one good reason why we should take one step through that door."

"It's enticing! Every demon, witch, ghost, ghoul, every single miserable, soulless, dark creature to walk your planet has been gathered tonight, inside that house," said Lucifer pointing to it. "It's the last fight boys, and I'm all in!"

Dean looked at Sam. Sam looked equally confused, his brow furrowed.

"Not convinced yet? No? Lets put it this way. I've raised the stakes against you boys."

"Raised the stakes, how?" said Sam, his voice faltering.

"Human leverage." said Lucifer, digging dirt from under his fingernail, "there's a surprise waiting for you in there, Dean."

The colour drained from Dean's face.

"Remember Lisa? And Ben? You son, Ben Winchester? They're waiting in there, right through those doors. I got them to fly out to Kansas today, for this specially. Thought they might add some colour to the party."

"My son? No, you have it all wrong. Ben Braeden is not my son." protested Dean frantically.

"Oh how adorable, is that what she told you? Smart girl, Lisa, I must say. Hiding Ben's parentage from you. After all, who would want you for a father?" said Lucifer snidely.

"Watch your mouth!" snarled Sam.

"Well, what difference does it make really? You can stand here and watch them die, or you can follow me inside and hope to save them, somehow." Lucifer shrugged.

Dean looked at him, ashen-faced. His face was wrought with anger and pain and yet he didn't take his eyes off the devil, not even for one second. After a minute of glaring at him with pure loathing, Dean gave him the slightest of nods.

"Warming up to the devil now, are we, Dean?"

"You monster!" yelled Sam, "The kid's barely five!"

"So?" Lucifer shrugged nonchalantly.

"What do you want me to do?" said Sam.

"Boy, you've gone slow Sammy. I thought you were a smart kid. What happened? Slumming it with Dean, his stupidity rub off on you?" said Lucifer, smiling lazily.

"Just shut up and tell me what I have to do!" yelled Sam.

"No!" said Dean. "It's too much of a risk Sammy."

"So what, you're just going to let them die?" said Sam incredulously.

"I…just…" said Dean, his voice choking, his brain whirring with alternative possibilities, each appearing unlikelier than the last.

"Look, Sam, there's a chance they're going to die anyway." said Bobby softly.

"I'd appreciate it, just a little bit, if you kept shut, Bobby" said Lucifer in a dangerously soft voice.

"No." said Sam decisively, turning to Lucifer, "I'll go with you."

"And I'm coming along," said Dean, packing his revolver.

"Alright" shrugged Lucifer.

"Count me in." said Bobby, picking up his shotgun.

"I wish you wouldn't come along Bobby, it might get too crowded." said Lucifer.

"Yeah, you keep wishing Satan." Bobby snorted in reply.

…

_In the yard, behind the house._

"What was the point of dragging us down here?" said Raphael, looking around the yard, wearing a bored expression.

"It's the final battle. Didn't think you'd want to miss the show!" said Gabriel smiling, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

"I must say, this is quite, all of a sudden, isn't it?" said Joshua softly.

"What can I say, our brother has quite the talent for surprising us." Gabriel replied.

"I'll have to agree with that." said Raphael, "Is that it? I thought more of us were coming."

"Isn't Lysander going to…" asked Uriel nervously.

Gabriel shot a quick look at Raphael's face, now wearing an acutely sour expression and said, "No, turns out he is busy."

"Pity." clucked Uriel.

A man wearing a fawn coloured trench coat over a black suit appeared out of nowhere and began walking towards the back gate.

"What is he doing here?" said Raphael angrily, pointing a finger at the newcomer.

"Ah, Castiel! How nice of you to join us." said Gabriel.

Castiel did an about turn and walked up the yard, "Where's Michael?" he asked, sounding out of breath.

"Slow down brother, Michael will come when he has to." said Gabriel smoothly.

"No! You don't understand, he has to be here now. The Winchesters are going to go inside any minute." said Castiel, a hint of panic in his voice.

"Why do you care?" said Raphael scathingly.

"Gabriel, please, listen to me. Michael has to be here, now. Before Lucifer can get Sam to say 'yes'." said Castiel urgently, ignoring Raphael.

"Castiel, my hands are tied. I cannot force Michael to come here against his will. He'll come when he wants to come, if at all." explained Gabriel.

"If at all? IF AT ALL? Do you understand what is at stake here? Can you even comprehend…"

"Shut up rebel! We can comprehend far more than you can possibly imagine." snapped Raphael, advancing towards Castiel, his hand raised.

"No!" said Uriel stepping in between, shielding the smaller angel.

"You dare?" said Raphael in a deathly whisper, staring down into Uriel's eyes.

Uriel did not flinch, neither did he look away.

"Come now Raphael, be nice to your brothers. No roughhousing." an unfamiliar voice said from behind.

Raphael stepped away from Uriel and turned to face him.

"Michael?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"Yes, new vessel." he said, shrugging in response.

"Michael." Castiel pushed past Raphael and Uriel and approached him.

"Hello Castiel."

"We have to go in there." said Castiel without preamble, pointing towards the house.

"Yes, we do. I presume you have a plan?"

"Yes."

"I see. Lead the way then."

"Woah, woah, woah. Just hold on a second. You trust him? This murderous, rebellious traitor? You're going to take his advice on how to fight the final battle?" Raphael intervened.

"Raphael." said Gabriel in a warning voice.

"He's a smart kid. He's lived with humans for some time now. I've seen him best angels and demons alike." said Michael, looking at Castiel as if sizing him up, "Besides," he added, a steely edge to his voice, "he's got personal motive."

"Raphael's got a point you know, brother. Isn't it too much of a risk, both of you traipsing in after those pieces of scum?" asked Balthazar shrewdly.

Michael narrowed his eyes. "I've already made up my mind, boys. And let me assure you, I have thought this through."

"Oh well, go on then." said Gabriel.

"Godspeed." murmured Joshua.

"If you need us brother, we'll be right here." said Uriel, gently placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder.

"You don't have to fight this battle." Castiel replied mechanically.

"I know. But I'd still join in if you asked me to, in a human heartbeat."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_In the hall._

"Okay, here's what's going to happen." said Lucifer, in a businesslike manner, standing in the hall, "The two of you are going to stick with me. You do not move one step away unless I tell you do so. Remember, one toe out of line and every single one of my minions is going to slaughter your kid. And it's mother. And Bobby, try not to get in the way." he said looking around at the trio, "Now are we clear?"

"You are going to fight Michael." said Dean.

"Correct, after I take up Sam as a vessel." replied Lucifer.

"How do you expect to fight Michael unless he has a vessel?" said Dean, frowning.

"He already has a vessel, dumbass. You!"

"Yes, but if I 'stick with you', how is Michael going to find me?" snapped Dean.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. My brother will come to us. We don't have to go looking for him."

"And when exactly will Michael be coming?" asked Sam. He was nervous but was trying hard to not to show it.

"When the time is right.' said Lucifer smiling enigmatically.

"Which would be now." said a voice from behind, "Hello, dear brother. How are you?"

Lucifer spun around to face the a youngish-looking man wearing a checked shirt with rolled-up sleeves and jeans.

"Michael?" he said softly, then arched his brow, "What vessel is this?"

"A temporary one. Don't worry, we both know I can't take you on without using a Winchester sword."

Lucifer let out a short, bark-like laugh, "Yes, we both know that. That would be…uh…so very foolish."

"We wouldn't last two minutes." said Michael softly, smiling, pausing for a second, "It's so nice to see you Lucifer." he said, his expression softening.

"It's good to see you too, Michael." said Lucifer, unmoving.

Sam noticed him curl his fist around a knife by his side.

Michael took a few steps towards them. Lucifer narrowed his eyes.

"You and I are going to sit down and have a little talk, dear brother." said Michael patronizingly.

"Oh I don't think we are." smirked Lucifer, his eyes tracking Michael's progress as he made his way across the room.

"You were always such a difficult child, Lucifer." Michael sighed.

"Oh, yeah? You remember."

"Of course I remember!"

"You used to be the only one who could shut me up." said Lucifer.

"Yes, yes. I miss that. It gets so lonely without you. Raphael's just annoying . And what with Gabi and his disappearing act…" said Michael fondly.

"And what about the newbie? What's it's name?"

"Lysander. He's all right. But none of them can hold a candle to you, brother." He stopped in his tracks, his nose now inches from Lucifer's. "I miss you, Lucifer." He raised his hand, to touch his forehead.

"I…" before Lucifer had the chance to finish, Michael quickly swerved and planted his forefingers on Dean, Sam and Bobby making them disappear. Lucifer let out a howl of fury which the three humans did not hear.

…...

_In the basement._

It took Dean half a minute to realise that he had been transported from the hallway by Michael to some place else. He cursed himself for not bringing along his torch as he squinted in the dark, his eyes trying to get used to it. He felt around his surroundings. It was pitch dark, and he was in a house full of demons. It was not a very comforting thought. Where the hell was he anyway? He didn't have a very vivid memory of this part of the house. This would probably be one of those rooms he never ventured into, like the attic or…

"The basement!" Dean hissed, making his way through the room, both arms curled tightly around his revolver. His knee made contact with some boxes and he almost howled in pain, before he put a fist in his mouth. Now was not the time to alert every supernatural creature of his whereabouts.

He fumbled up the steps till he finally found the door and braced himself as he threw his weight on it and pushed it open.

The scene that met his eyes nearly made him jump back into the basement again.

There was a war going on, in his child hood home. Trust Satan to have brought every evil under the sun, under one roof. They were killing each other. Blood, fire, guts, screams and echoes erupted from every corner. Dean put his hands over his ears and broke into a run. His best bet would be to find Lisa and Ben and get them out of here.

"Lisa!" he yelled as he lurched forward through the corridor, stopping to shoot a few creatures that lunged towards him. "Lisa!" he yelled again, "Ben! Can you hear me?"

Dean decided to check the bedrooms. Thankfully, there weren't that many on this floor.

Dean went about the monumental task, yelling Lisa and Ben's names as he opened one door after the other, occasionally shooting dark creatures. One bastard attacked him from behind, but Dean was able to delve into his jacket and slit his throat with his silver knife. From then on, he kept the colt in one hand the knife in the other, as he made his way from room to room.

He had one last room to check, before he made his way to the upper floors. Though, even as he began to turn the handle he knew that something was gravely wrong. This room was unlit, like the others. It had a strong supernatural presence, also like the others. It also had Lisa Braeden tied to the bed by a black mulch that was eating her alive.

"Lisa!" yelled Dean as he burst through the door.

"Dean." gasped Lisa. She was being sucked into the bed as if it were quicksand. "Dean, they took Ben. You have to find him."

Dean focused his revolver on the black mulch. "Try not to move, Lisa. I got to shoot this thing." he said his voice faltering.

"Dean." a second voice called weakly. Dean traced it back and looked up.

"Meg?" he breathed, his voice choking. His hand holding the revolver fell limply by his side. Meg was plastered against the ceiling, her limbs askew.

"Meg!" This time Dean yelled with great urgency in his voice, as he rushed to the side of the bed. "What happened, Meg? How did you...? Hold on! I'll get you out of there."

"No, Dean." Meg said weakly, "It's too late. You have to leave us."

"No." said Dean resolutely.

"Listen, Dean." said Meg urgently, "I tried saving Lisa, I'm sorry." Dean could see the tears forming in her eyes, "This thing's too powerful. You can't shoot it. You can't stab it. You have it to burn it alive. With us."

"No." repeated Dean, his voice faltering.

"Please, Dean." Meg closed her eyes and screwed up her nose as if she were in great pain. "You have to leave, now!"

"Dean? Please try and find Ben. Promise me, promise that you'll find Ben. Promise me that you'll try and save him." gasped Lisa, struggling to breathe.

"Nothing is going to happen to Ben, I swear. Now be still so I can figure out how to get you and Meg out of this mess."

…...

_In the attic._

"Michael!" yelled Sam as he fell through space and hit the floor. He groaned before he managed to prop himself up. His surroundings were dark and unfamiliar.

"What an ass!" he muttered to himself as he squinted around. He had to figure out where he was if he had any hopes of escaping. And then all he needed to do was to find Lisa and Ben and then grab Dean and Bobby and leave the house full of demons and one pissed-off overlord. Not bad.

Sam walked a few steps ahead, his eyes slowly growing accustomed to the dark. He felt for the knife in his jacket and after reassuring himself that it was there, he took a few more steps in front. His eyes found the source of dim light and he traced it to the ceiling. He could see the faint glimmer of stars from a crack through the skylight. He must be in the attic, he concluded. He would have to find the ladder and climb down it.

Several more minutes of thrashing around and the younger Winchester brother had found what he was looking for. Guiding his feet down one step at a time, Sam was relieved to be greeted by the light of the store room. He was less relieved however to be greeted by the figure in a beige trench coat entering the room, dragging what looked like a corpse with him.

"Hello Sam." said the figure matter-of-factly.

"Castiel? Oh my God! What are you doing here?" asked Sam.

"Improvising." replied Castiel, shrugging. "Look, I need you to do me a favour. Take this guy," he said pointing to the body on the floor with his foot, "and bring him outside to the front lawn. Oh you might find some trouble on your way, so I trust you are armed?"

"Yes, but…"

"Good. Just make sure nothing happens to that. I have to go. I have work to do." Castiel said curtly.

"Woah, woah,woah, just hang on a sec." said Sam kneeling by the figure on the floor, "Castiel, this is Michael's vessel! Is he alive?"

"Of course." said Castiel, with a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Then where's Michael? Oh God, is Dean okay?" cried Sam, putting two and two together.

"He should be. Look, Sam. We don't have time for this. I need to get going and you need to leave this house immediately."

"But Castiel…"

"No, Sam! Don't do anything stupid. Don't go looking for Dean. The others should take care of him. Just leave. And try not to get yourself or the vessel killed."

"Others? What others? You mean other angels? Castiel!" Sam yelled frustrated, but to no avail. The angel had long disappeared.

…...

_In the kitchen_.

"Come out and play you lily-livered munchkins!" Bobby Singer yelled as he loaded his shotgun. He waited for a fresh hoard of spirits to descend before he started firing away.

"Bobby." said Castiel appearing out of nowhere. He made his way to the a flour sack in the corner.

"Castiel?" said Bobby hoarsely, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Why does everybody keep asking me that, I wonder." said Castiel, now undoing the rope tied at the mouth of the sack.

"Where are the boys? Dean? Sam?" asked Bobby concernedly, pausing to shoot another creature in the mouth before turning to face Castiel again.

"I don't know. I met with Sam. He's on his way out. You have to leave too. But after you help me with this." he said matter-of-factly, stepping aside to show what appeared to Bobby was pounds of rock salt.

"There's more." said Castiel, "And we have to get some in each room. Oh and we'll be needing this," he said effortlessly lifting two cans of kerosene.

"What's happening Castiel?" said Bobby.

"I don't know. But I do know that this might help." said Castiel. Bobby looked at the angel, he looked desolate, defeated and almost sorry. His blue tie, his ill-fitted black suit, his trench coat hung loosely around his frame. His shoulders sagged limply and his downcast eyes did not meet Bobby's.

"Well then. Let's crack on!"

…...

_In the bedroom._

"Time is running out, Dean." warned Meg.

"If you would just shut up and let me think!" yelled Dean, the panic in him rising with every passing second.

"No, Dean." cried Lisa, her voice barely audible.

"Meg, just tell me what this thing is called and I'll figure out a way to kill it!"

The door burst open with a bang and blue light and a slender figure appeared framed in the doorway. Her thin face was framed by flaming red locks. She strode in, surveying the room, stopping when her eyes found Dean.

"Anna?" he mumbled. He had thought this day could not get any weirder. Clearly, he was wrong.

"Hello Dean." She walked over to him, placed both her hands on his shoulders and looked upwards, "Uriel! Clear!" she yelled before disappearing with him.

…...

_In the hallway._

"That's it Castiel. I think we got all the salt." said Bobby huffing as he poured kerosene in a corner for what felt like the hundredth time.

"And just in time." a third voice behind them popped up.

"Thank you for coming, Joshua." Castiel said without so much as turning, He poured the last of the salt and wiped his hands on the trench coat.

"Oh, that's nothing. Glad to help." said Joshua, "_Everything has gone according to plan, then?_" he muttered in Enochian.

"_So far so good._" replied Castiel breathlessly.

"Bobby, thank you for your help. I have to go now. Joshua will show you out." said Castiel nodding in his direction.

"Wait…" began Bobby, but Castiel was already gone.

"Bobby Singer, are you ready?" asked Joshua, smiling pleasantly.

"Ready for what?" said Bobby, as the angel extended his arms, resting them on Bobby's shoulders, "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" he yelled.

Joshua didn't reply. His gaze extended heavenward as he cried out, "Uriel! Clear!" and vanished with Bobby.

…...

_The lawn in front of the house._

Sam was the first to stumble across the porch, still lugging the vessel.

Anna arrived moments later, clutching a howling Dean. Joshua and Bobby followed soon afterward.

"Anna! What did you do? Let me go!" yelled Dean, fighting and kicking, but to no avail. The angel had him in a viselike death grip.

A bright beam of blinding, blue light flashed upward from the house to the sky, illuminating the clouds, forcing the brothers and Bobby to look away. Moments later everything was silent. Everyone on the lawn turned their eyes on the hovering figure above the house. It was Uriel, his charcoal grey wings outspread, muttering chants in Enochian.

There was a blast and the entire house erupted in flames. The windows shattered and the walls peeled off. Sam looked on in horror and Dean let out a scream.

The whole thing could have not taken more than five minutes but even as the flames subsided and Uriel flapped his giant wings away, all that was left of the Winchester house was burnt, black, smoky remains.

"No!" yelled Dean again, "Lisa's still in there! Let me go!"

Joshua shot an enquiring look at Anna who still had Dean in her firm grip. She replied, "It was too late, we couldn't save her."

"Let me go, Anna. I'm warning you. I have to save Lisa and Ben. And Meg." said Dean through gritted teeth, his heels digging into the dirt, throwing his weight against the angel.

"Meg?" asked Sam, surprised, "Meg was there too?"

"Yeah, couldn't save her either. Sorry." said Anna.

"I have to at least try and find Ben, please!" yelled Dean, still struggling.

"And Castiel? Did he make it out of there?" said Sam, realising he was still propping up the vessel. He set the body down.

Dean's entire frame went rigid. He stopped struggling and turned around to face his brother, "Cas was there?" he said in a deathly whisper.

"You didn't see him?" asked Bobby.

Dean broke free from Anna's grip. She stumbled back from the impact as she let him go. Dean hurtled across the lawn into the burnt remains of the house, knocking down the remains of the front door with ease.

He put a sleeve against his nose, sucking in his breath so as to not breathe in the poisonous fumes. Making his way through the house, stumbling across bodies of demons that had been killed in the fire, he checked each and every room till he finally came to the last. He stood outside the room that had once been Sammy's nursery, his body shaking with trepidation and fear. He turned the door handle, his body tense and pulsating with a negative sense of foreboding. He squinted through the smoke and his eyes widened and his jaw went slack from what he saw.

Years later he would describe it eloquently as the most amazing sight in his life, but right then Dean Winchester fumbled for words. Castiel was kneeling on the floor, his trench coat and clothes blackened by the explosion. He looked miraculously unharmed, not a hair on his body looked out of place. His big, bright, cerulean wings were propped up, encasing his body in cocoon-like shield.

Dean found his voice and cried out, "Cas! Are you okay?"

"Yes." said Castiel. He sounded hoarse. He coughed and cleared his throat a few times.

"Cas. Did you…have you seen Ben?"

Castiel didn't reply. His wings began to unfold, moving away from their previous position where they were hugging his body to the back of his shoulders where they belonged. The smoke cleared and the dust settled down and Dean blinked twice to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Beneath the wings, sheltered by Cas's arms that hugged him tight, his tiny fists curled around Cas's trench coat lapels, was Ben Winchester.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_The lawn in front of the house._

Dean stumbled out on the front porch. His eyes fell on Sammy, who was still crouched on the lawn, clutching the body of the vessel. He and Bobby had been joined by many other angels. Dean saw the look of shock registering on his brother's face as he saw the shadowy figure behind him. Castiel walked out, his wings still outstretched, still carrying little Ben Winchester in his arms.

"Castiel, what the…?" Before Sam could manage to articulate, Joshua cried aloud in his hoarse voice, "Praise the Lord!"

A murmur of assent rose from the other angels.

Castiel looked at the younger Winchester brother, "Sam, you still have the vessel?"

"Uh, yes. Right here." said Sam, stooping to pick up the body.

"Bring him in." said Castiel shortly.

Sam looked at Dean's inscrutable face and then back at Castiel's. He nodded slightly and gulped as he heaved the body inside the remains of the ruined house.

Dean sighed and strode across the lawn to stand next to Bobby. Everybody waited silently, the angels exchanging awkward glances among themselves, some of them muttering under their breaths in Enochian. A few minutes, all of which felt like an eternity to Dean, passed before Castiel, Sam and Michael walked out again. Sam looked ashen-faced and dumbfounded as if he'd been force-fed raw cabbage for breakfast. Michael was in his previous vessel and Ben was still in Castiel's arms. He walked across the lawn and handed him directly to Dean.

"He's asleep." he said in his low voice, "He's exhausted but he's fine. Bobby and Sam will take you two to a hotel. The child needs to rest." he finished slowly. His bright, blue eyes raked over Dean's face, frowning with concern, scrutinising it carefully, "You need to be patched up."

Dean took the kid from his arms and rested his head on his shoulder. "I'm fine," he wanted to say, but his voice died in his throat.

"Castiel!" called Michael crisply.

Castiel lowered his gaze from Dean's eyes and turned around to face his brother.

"Any one of you interested in bringing us up to speed?" said Bobby in a low growl.

"What is there to say?" said Michael lazily, cracking his knuckles slowly, occasionally flexing his fingers and looking at his nails.

"Where's Lucifer? What the hell happened in there? What about Ben? And what is up with Castiel and the wings?" said Sam, breathlessly, flapping his arms to show the wings.

"Yes, Castiel, what is up with that? I think you've impressed everyone enough for today." said Michael, snidely.

"My apologies." said Castiel slowly to no one in particular. There was a single flash and the wings disappeared.

Michael turned his attention on Sam. "Castiel and Bobby were able to sterilize the whole house and Uriel burned it down, killing everything inside it."

"Yes, we saw that.' said Sam, impatiently, "That used to be our house! And what about Lisa?"

"I hear we couldn't save her. Most regrettable." shrugged Michael.

Sam fought the urge to punch the archangel and muttered through gritted teeth, "And Satan?"

"My brother? He is, let's say, locked in a box, for now. Far away, across space and time. In due course, he and I are going to sit down and have a little chat. With our Father, hopefully." said Michael.

The angels resumed their hushed discussions in Enochian.

"And Ben?" Sam continued, relentlessly, "What I just saw…?"

'Oh Sam Winchester. I tire of your questions. You are the demons' golden boy. Not mine. Though, I must say, there aren't any left…" Michael let out a short laugh. "I need to get going. The others must join me." he said looking around at the other angels.

They ceased their mutterings at once and looked at Michael, nodding in assent.

"Let us return, my brothers and sisters. You have fought well, on this most momentous day. And you, Castiel," he said turning to the angel on his left, his eyes narrowed, "_Remember our little talk?_" he hissed in Enochian.

"_Clearly._" replied Castiel unflinchingly.

"_Good_." said Michael. He looked satisfied. "_I shall see you then, brother_."

"_Soon._" said Castiel his eyes boring into Michael's until the older angel looked away. When he did, Castiel sighed and briefly closed his eyes, a gesture Dean did not miss.

…...

_The motel room._

Ben had been laid to sleep on the bedcovers. Castiel sat beside him on the edge of the bed and stroked the side of the child's face, muttering in Enochian. The child stirred softly, his small hands and feet jerking and twitching for a few seconds before his eyelids fluttered open.

"Castiel?" he murmured softly.

"How are you feeling, Ben?" Castiel asked softly, relieved that the child had responded so quickly.

"What happened?" Ben asked. He was confused. He tried sitting up, but he felt too weak.

"Don't strain yourself yet. Lie down." said Castiel soothingly. He straightened the covers, avoiding Ben's eyes, "a great many terrible things happened tonight. And you will have time to hear it all from your father, and Uncle Sammy."

"My father's here?" asked Ben quietly.

"Yes, he's waiting downstairs, with your Uncle Sammy and Bobby."

"And my mum?" he said in a small voice.

Castiel folded his hands in his lap and turned to look at the child. "Your mum…your father will tell you about her. You should hear from him, what happened…"

"She's dead, isn't she?" said Ben. The finality of that sentence hit the child and his eyes brimmed with tears. He looked away, his eyes stinging, his tiny frame racking with sobs.

Castiel sighed and turned towards the child. He looked so small, and broken and his eyes, his large, pale, green eyes, the exact shade of Dean's, looked hurt and painful at the unfairness of it all. The angel extended his hands and laid them on the boy's shoulders, "I know it hurts, Ben. But it's going to be alright. Not today. But some day, in the future, it will all hurt a little less."

It was too much for the child, he turned towards Castiel, clutching the lapels of his trenchcoat and burying his face into his chest as he gave way to the sobs. Castiel encased him in his arms, resting his head slightly on Ben's, stroking the back oh his head, trying his best to give him a shred of comfort to the howling child.

"It's going to be fine, Ben. You'll see. Your father will take very good care of you. And your Uncle Sammy too. And…"

Castiel didn't know what else to say. He sat silently for some time and then began to hum softly. It was a strange tune, a song he had learnt a thousand years ago, in Enochian. He kept his voice low and calm. The song made no sense to Ben, yet he drew some comfort from the soothing tones. His sobs became increasingly muffled and finally gave way to silence. His tiny frame continued to shake, interspersed with occasional sniffs that he buried in Castiel's trench coat.

…

_The fenced gate, just outside the motel._

"Is Ben alright?" said Dean the moment Castiel walked out the doors.

"Yes, he is resting. You should go talk to him." said Castiel.

Dean downed the rest of his beer, before looking at the angel. The angel stared back expectantly. 'What, now?" said Dean.

"Yes. Now would be good." said Castiel, a sense of finality in his voice. "Are you okay?" he added on an afterthought.

"I'm fine. Bobby and Sam took care of it."

"Where is Bobby?" asked Castiel.

"He's in the bar. Drowning himself." replied Dean, raising an eyebrow.

"Drowning himself? In what?" asked Castiel.

Dean rolled his eyes and walked in through the motel doors and made his way upstairs.

"So, Castiel. Everything good?" Sam asked him. He wore a bemused expression. One of concern and relief.

Castiel half-smiled back, "I believe so, yes."

"Say, how did Michael defeat Satan anyway?" asked Sam pressingly. Castiel looked up at the tall Winchester. He had a beer bottle pressed to his lips. His eyes were burning with curiosity through his ill-disguised nonchalance.

"After Michael had you out of Lucifer's reach it was easy enough. He couldn't get to you, his one true vessel. All Michael had to do was defeat him when he was in the vulnerable state." said Castiel in a monotone.

"Okay. I follow." said Sam, nodding, taking another swig from his bottle.

'No you don't." retorted Castiel.

"No, I don't! God, Castiel! Just tell me, how did Michael…"

"He used the sword of Winchester. Full access to all his powers. Lucifer could never match up to that. It was over in a matter of minutes.'

"Wait, the sword of Winchester? The vessel? You mean Dean…?"

"No, not Dean. Ben, his direct bloodline."

"Wow. He could do that? I mean how did he even get the little guy to say 'yes'?"

"He didn't." said Castiel softly, something shifting behind his clear, blue eyes. "Ben is a minor. I said 'yes' on his behalf."

"And that's possible?"

Castiel heaved a sigh, "Yes. For me, it is possible. I am his guardian."

"You're his guardian? As in guardian angel?" asked Sam incredulously.

"If you call it that, then yes, I suppose I am."

Castiel looked at Sam, "The aftermath of the destruction is going to be difficult, especially for the survivors. Ben will need to recover and Dean will have to walk him through it. You must help him, Sam."

"Well, yeah. Of course. What about you? What plans?" said Sam, handing Castiel a beer.

Castiel declined, shaking his head and muttered, "I have to be on my way."

Sam looked at him, expecting him to elaborate. Castiel sighed and muttered, "I have business to attend with Michael."

"Well, don't go off anywhere before talking with Dean." warned Sam, finishing off his beer. "You stay here, I'll go find Bobby."

_The motel room._

Dean paused for a second before he peeped through the crack. Ben was lying on the bed, his face turned sideways on his pillow, staring, lost in thought. Dean cleared his throat and opened the door wide.

"Hey buddy. You still awake?"

Ben nodded silently.

Dean crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to the child. "You feeling alright?" he asked nervously, running his fingers through his hair.

"I'm good." Ben replied in a soft voice. He paused awkwardly, there were a great many things he wanted to say but he didn't know how to bring it up yet.

Dean looked out the window shiftily. "You know Ben, your mom…I don't know what she told you, but I'm kinda sorta…your dad."

"I know." said Ben quietly.

Dean paused, fumbling for his next words, "I'm sorry about what happened to Lisa...your mom. I did my best, but the fire was too big and I…"

"It's okay, Dad." said Ben suddenly, putting his small hand on Dean's, "Is it okay if I call you that? Dad?"

Dean's expression softened as he looked into Ben's eyes. They were the exact colour of his own, he noticed. "Of course." he said kindly.

"I know what happened to mum. And what happened inside that house. I remember everything." said Ben, his eyes downcast, looking away from Dean, "All of it."

Dean swore softly under his breath. He took his son's hands in his and said, "It's alright. You need to get some rest, and then tomorrow…"

"Dad?" Ben interjected.

"Um, yeah?"

"Is mum going to have a funeral?" he asked in a small voice.

"How old are you?" said Dean, frowning.

"I'm turning six in two months."

"Yeah, okay, whatever. I mean technically, she's already been cremated…but you know what, never mind. You don't need to know that. We'll have a proper funeral, with an empty grave." Dean rambled.

"Am I going to have to live on my own?" said Ben suddenly. "Or are you going to send me away to a school or to the Social Services people? Dad, I don't want to go to a foster home." he said, panic rising in his voice.

'Woah woah woah, lets just back up a minute. You're not going anywhere." said Dean firmly, "I haven't worked this all out yet, but you're coming to stay with me. And your Uncle Sammy." he added on an afterthought.

"What about Cas?"

"What about him?" Dean enquired.

"Can he come and stay with us as well?"

"Yeah, of course.' said Dean laughing, "Where else would he go?"

Ben smiled back at his father, and then yawned. Dean looked at his tired eyes and said, "Alright buddy, that's enough for today. You need to go to sleep right away." He got up from the bed.

"Wait, where are you going?" cried Ben.

"Eh? I was just going down…to speak with Uncle Sammy and Bobby." said Dean, his voice faltering.

"Don't go." the boy pleaded. He looked small and sad, in Dean's eyes. "I can't sleep."

"You're tired." Dean counteracted.

"Stay. Just a little while longer. Please, Dad."

Dean sat down on the bed again. "What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know." Ben replied in a small voice.

"Um, okay. What did your mom usually do?"

"She would read me a bedtime story."

"Alright. But we ain't got no books here, boy. We can go get 'em from your house tomorrow." said Dean.

"Then you can sing a song." Ben said persistently.

"What song?"

"A lullaby. Like mum used to sing."

"I don't know any lullabies Ben." he paused, surveying the child's disappointed face, "But I can sing you this song. My mom used to sing it to me, when I was a kid. Yes, that's right," he said drawing the child closer and putting an arm around his shoulder, "I used to have a mom. She died in a fire too."

"Do you miss her?"

"All the time." said Dean, his eyes stinging unexpectedly. "But it wasn't so bad. I had a dad, and I had your Uncle Sammy. And Bobby. And we did just fine."

Ben looked up at Dean's face expectantly. Dean sighed before softly speaking, "Hey Jude."

He paused before picking up the tune, "Don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better. Hey Jude…"

…...

_The back gate of the motel._

Dean walked out the back entrance of the motel. It opened out into a small back porch that led to a narrow, unlit street. Castiel was standing below the steps of the porch, rolling a lit cigarette between his fingers.

"Since when do you smoke?" Dean asked gruffly.

"I don't." Castiel replied, without turning. He dropped the un-smoked cigarette onto the ground and stepped lightly on it to extinguish the tip.

"Well, you better get used to not lighting those around here. Now that we have…now that there's a kid in the house." said Dean, trying his best to sound off-handed.

Castiel turned his head slightly and tilted it to look towards Dean. "Dean." he said softly.

"Yeah?" the older Winchester brother said.

"I'm sorry about Lisa Braeden."

"Yeah, well I'm sorry about Meg." Dean muttered.

Castiel shrugged. He turned around to face Dean. Dean sighed as he descended down the two steps, "Ben is asleep, finally. And I just met Sammy out in the hall. He's got Bobby. He's taking him back to his room right now."

Dean paused, looking at the angel. Castiel continued to peer at him through his brilliant, blue eyes, the exact colour of his wings, Dean recalled. The angel's head was tilted to one side, in his usual peculiar demeanor as if he was watching Dean with the utmost curiosity.

"I…uh, heard, from Sammy that you have to meet Michael. Sort out some family business." said Dean.

"That is correct." replied Castiel in his low voice.

"Well. Alright then. I'll see you around." said Dean, nonchalantly. He put his hands in his pockets and turned around to go back inside.

"No."

Dean stopped in his tracks. Even though he couldn't see Castiel's face, he could feel the angel's blue-eyed stare burning into his back.

"What?" Dean asked, turning his head back slightly.

"I said 'no'." said Castiel, taking a step towards Dean's back, "No, you won't be seeing me around." His voice suddenly harsh and louder than usual.

Dean turned around to face the angel, a perplexed expression on his voice. He took his hands out of his pockets and twisted them upwards to signify, 'What's goin' on?'.

"I used to have a sister. Cyrian. We were very close. We were practically the same age and the others often mistook us for twins. There were four of us in the quartet. Lysander, Uriel, you've already met him, Cyrian, and then me. The youngest. After Lucifer was banished, Michael called upon Lysander to take over the duties of the missing archangel. The others weren't too happy about it. We missed him, especially Uriel. Gabriel left. Raphael disliked him, intensely." Castiel paused at this point, but before Dean had a chance to interrupt him, he continued softly, "And then shortly afterwards, Cyrian was killed, battling a demon. "

Dean interjected quickly, "I'm sorry to hear that. But why are you telling me all this, Cas?"

Castiel went on as if Dean hadn't said anything. He was no longer looking directly at the Winchester. His eyes had a distracted, lost look. "Cyrian's death saved thousands of human lives. Still, it was a dear price to pay, and I didn't take it too well. Uriel nearly lost his mind. Lysander refused to do anything about it. They used to call us 'The Troublemaker's Quartet', back in the garrison. I think Gabriel had coined the term, or Balthazar. One of the two. And overnight, practically, everything was lost."

Dean looked around uncertainly. He tried opening and closing his mouth several times, looking for the right words to reply to Castiel, but none came to mind.

"My last night in heaven, the night before I was ordered to descend into perdition and bring you out, I went to Lysander with a request. I begged him to let me see Cyrian, just that once."

"Wait, I thought you said she had died."

"Yes, but there is a place where we gather dead angels. No one's allowed inside though. Lysander must have some residual affection for me. He pulled some strings and arranged a meeting. I saw my sister, for the first time in years, or what remained of her at least, a hollow, broken spirit. At first, she was delighted to see me, as always. Then she began to cry, saying that she had assumed that she would have had a lifetime with me, to teach me things. How to fight, how to survive, all the different tricks of the trade. I was a soldier angel, the youngest of a quartet. I knew nothing. I told of her the mission I had been assigned to. I was in charge of a human, and my first job was to bring him back to earth, from hell. Cyrian grew very angry as she heard the plan of the archangels. The job was much too dangerous and far too interfering. I assured her that I was more than capable of carrying it out. I told her that following the orders of the archangels would bring good to the human race. She did not seem satisfied. It surprised me that she had such little regard for the good of the human race, considering that she had given her life for it."

He stopped, for a bit. Dean had semi-perched himself on the handrail of the back porch steps. He did not want to interrupt Castiel just yet.

"She told me a great many things of what to expect on earth, and in hell and what to do about it. She dutifully fed me the usual propaganda - follow orders, do my duty unto my brothers and my Lord. Every time, all those times," Castiel's voice began to crack, but he carried on hoarsely, "All those times you were angry with me for being a 'good little soldier'. All those times you accused me of being _spineless_ and blindly following orders from heaven. Every time you wanted to break the law and change destiny for _your_ brother's sake and expected me to just _crack on_ with you…I was just trying to uphold my end of the bargain. My word of promise to her. For the sake of _my sister_!"

"I didn't know!" Dean yelled back.

"You never asked." Castiel said in a deathly whisper, his face inches away from Dean's.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and looked back at Castiel. As usual, the angel was violating every concept of personal space but Dean didn't have the heart to pull away and reprimand him for it. His friend was upset, and this needed to be sorted.

Castiel turned away, "Cyrian warned me to take the words of the archangels with a pinch of salt. I couldn't trust anyone, not even Lysander. He was almost entirely under Michael's command. Time was running out so she was eager to tell me the most important thing."

Dean leaned in to catch Castiel's words at the end. The angel had moved away and his voice had become uncomfortably low.

"She said that the greatest dangers did not lie at the hands of Lucifer or Michael, or any of their spawns or sidekicks. I was an angel of the Lord, and no supernatural being would dare harm me. No, she said, the danger came from them."

"Them?" asked Dean tentatively, biting his words.

"You." Castiel sighed, "You lot." he clarified.

Dean exhaled, "Well then…"

But Castiel wasn't done yet. He turned to look at Dean, still standing on the dirt, by the side of the road. Dean was still by the porch rails, with a height advantage over the angel. He looked at Castiel's face. It was wrought with pain and conflicting emotions. The tip of his nose was reddening and Dean was startled to find tears forming in his deep, blue eyes. Dean was overcome with feeling at the angel's broken face. He had been through heaven and hell and back with him. They had fought demons, and angels and humans together. He had just saved his life, and his brother's, and his son's. Dean could not recall ever seeing him so pained, so hurt, so sad.

"She said," Castiel stopped, his voice hoarse, every word, it seemed, was being ripped out of his throat with considerable effort, "She said, not to care. Not to get attached. I told her that it would never happen. We were angels, we simply didn't do things like that. And she said that it was easier said than done. I didn't believe her. I put every ounce of my faith into not believing her. She said, she said that if I let myself be swayed, even once, even for a second, it would bring about my downfall, and she could not bear to see that. I reassured her, that it would never come to pass, but she insisted I promise."

Castiel looked away, blinking away the tears. It was a mark of how grave the situation was in Dean's realisation that he did not comment and just let Castiel finish.

"She made me promise that I would not fall. That I would not do anything, feel anything, that would ever cause me to be banished from our home, and so I promised. And then I failed her. She was right, and I failed her. And now, I have nowhere to go." He said the tears falling freely.

"Castiel, now look here. I don't know what's gotten into you, and Ben, for that matter. It's heartbreaking really to hear of all your dead family members, but don't forget, you guys aren't the only ones. I lost my mom and my dad. Hell, I nearly lost Sammy too, a couple of times. Jo, Ellen, Ash, Pamela…do you just want me to carry on? Or are you going to get it into your head that it doesn't matter. We have each other. You, me, Sammy, you have your Team Free Will all lined up right here, with Bobby and Ben and there's a way we can work things out." said a tired Dean, shaking his head, eyeing the angel warily.

"Earlier today Michael made me choose. He made me choose sides, just before the battle commenced." said Castiel softly, blatantly ignoring Dean, the last of his tears drying on his cheek.

"He made you choose sides between the angels and demons?" said Dean incredulously.

"No. Between humans and supernaturals."

"And?" asked Dean with bated breath. He gulped, suddenly filled with a feeling of fear and trepidation. His face and neck muscles tensed. It was almost as if his brain had realised what was going to happen at the end of this seemingly pointless conversation and was internally processing and preparing for it but his heart and his body were refusing to acknowledge it.

"And I made my choice. And this time I shall not disappoint."

The street was pitch dark and as silent as death. Dean's felt his face flush and his head spin as he heard Castiel's words, yet refused to listen to them.

Castiel's blue eyes were fixed on Dean's. His brows were furrowed as he looked at Dean's face, staring intently, with pain, and longing. His eyes raked over Dean's each and every feature, hungrily. Dean couldn't bring himself to look away. He couldn't bare to look at Cas, to look at Cas look at him like that and yet he felt so inadvertently drawn that he couldn't look away.

"So, no, Dean. You won't be seeing me around any more. You won't be seeing me again, ever."

And with one last, long look, Castiel disappeared. And Dean was left standing, staring into space where moments ago, Castiel, angel of the Lord had stood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Thirteen months have passed since that fateful night where Michael bested his brother and Lucifer was captured. Thirteen months since the death of Lisa Braeden and Dean assuming the full-time role as single father to their six year old son. Thirteen months since Dean, and Sam, gave up hunting and took up a normal, apple-pie life in Kansas. A life devoid of anything supernatural. A life where Dean Winchester is a mechanic who owns a garage called 'John's Yard'. A life where Sam Winchester goes to law school, at the local university. A life where Ben Winchester learns to play softball instead of learning how to use a shotgun. A life where Dean has spent the last thirteen months waiting, and praying and calling to Castiel with no response, whatsoever from the angel, at the end of which Dean realised that Cas was truly gone._

_At the dining table._

"Please, please, _please_ Dad!"

"No, Ben! I asked you whether you want a monster truck or a playstation for your birthday."

"Neither. Dad, please!"

"Ben! You cannot have a séance for you birthday!" Dean yelled back.

"Why not? I just want to talk to Mum, once. It won't take long, I swear. I looked it up." said Ben, pointing to Sam's laptop screen. "We'll be disturbing her for five minutes tops."

"That's it." said Dean, abruptly snapping the lid of the laptop shut, "You're grounded, big man. No touching Uncle Sammy's laptop. And no TV. And if you carry on this way, I'll make sure you don't leave the house unless it's for school."

"But why?" pleaded Ben. "It's not like you've never done a séance before."

Dean flushed. "Oh yeah? Well I never did one to summon my dead mother!" Dean hollered back.

"Well then maybe you should have!" Ben yelled. He looked mutinously at his father.

Dean glared at his son. Ben paused for a few seconds, his face flushed, breathing deeply before his eyes turned as round as saucers, "Dad, we could so it." he said in a hushed, excited voice, "We could call them both! Mum and Granma Mary! Think about it…"

"No!" snapped Dean, "That's quite enough. We are never talking of this again, you hear me? There is to be no séance, no summonings, no exorcisms, no nothing, you hear me?"

"Please Dad," Ben whined, relentlessly. "I know of someone who could do this. It would be so easy…"

"No." Dean opened his mouth to argue and then shut it again, frowning, "How did you…? Who have you been talking to?"

"Nobody." said Ben truthfully.

"Tell me, was it a Prophet? A Seer? A Medium? Bobby putting ideas into your head when he's drunk?"

"It was no one! And it wasn't Bobby!" said Ben quickly rushing to his defense.

"Well then how do you know it can be done? And who can do it? Let me tell you, when your Uncle Sammy finds out, he is going to be pis…really really mad at you." said Dean breathing deeply, clinching the bridge of his nose together.

Ben stood silently, avoiding his father's gaze.

"Well?" Dean prompted.

Ben started speaking slowly, haltingly, unwillingly, looking at his father from the corner of his eye, trying to gauge his response. "Cas could do it. If you would just let me call him once…"

Dean's face went rigid and cold. "No." he said harshly.

"Dad, if you would just let me call him once."

"I said _no_!" said Dean. His voice was unbroken but his face had turned white. "He will not come."

"Why won't you let me call him? You'd said I could call him any time I wanted. You had said that he would come and live with us, why didn't you let him?" Ben howled, "Cas can come and help us talk with Mum. I just need to call him once, Dad, please! Why won't you let me call him?"

"Stop it!" yelled Dean. He was livid. He looked like he might strike the boy. "You will not call him. I forbid you to call him. He will not come."

"He _will_," Ben insisted, angry tears welling in his eyes, "He promised me that he would come when I called him."

"Cas is gone. I didn't make him leave. He left because he wanted to and he is never going to come back. You will forget about this. You will not have a séance. _You will not call him_. And as a punishment, you will not have a birthday. You're grounded. Now go to your room and stay there 'till Uncle Sammy comes back home and decides what is to be done." said Dean quietly, avoiding his son's eyes.

"I hate you." said Ben with feeling before bounding up the stairs.

Dean stood in silence, hearing the sound of Ben's room's door slam shut. He sighed and collapsed on the sofa, burying his face in his palms, "At least you're not the only one." he muttered to himself.

…...

_Ben's room._

Ben threw himself on his bed and buried his face in his pillow, muffling the sound of his cries. Anger and reproach towards his father boiled in his throat and he felt like screaming.

Instead, he propped himself up on his haunches and looked at the door, listening intently. There was no sound of footsteps. His father was not following him up the stairs.

He didn't have more than five minutes, he figured. He leapt from the bed and crouched by it's side, his hands folded tightly, his head bent to his chest and began to mutter, "Castiel, Angel of the Lord, I pray to you. Please, please, please come and visit me. This is an emergency. I need to talk with you, right now. Dad is being a total…never mind, I'll explain when you get here. Please, please, please come now!" he finished hurriedly before crossing himself.

Excitedly, he turned around only to be greeted by a blank wall. Ben turned back, full of disappointment. Maybe his father was right. Maybe Castiel was really gone, and would never come back. Ben clasped his hands tightly in prayer again. Maybe, he hadn't done it right the first time. He bowed his head to resume praying. Maybe he should just make another attempt, maybe…

"Hello, Ben."

Ben whirled around, almost cricking his next. There, standing next to his bookshelf was a familiar figure wearing an ill-fitted black suit and a beige trench-coat. Bright, blue eyes stared back at him, under a mop of scruffy, dark hair.

"Cas!" Ben screamed as he launched himself into the angel's arms.

…...

_The hall._

Sam stumbled into the unlit hall. He dropped his back pack by the side of the door. Silence and darkness greeted the surprised Winchester. He fumbled around for the light switch, his free hand closing around a weapon he always kept concealed in the inside of his jacket pocket. He found the switch and flicked the light on.

Light flooded the living room. Sam squinted to see his laptop on the dining table, humming. He shifted around, uneasily, till he had crossed the length of the hall, his weapon now drawn.

Something was stirring on the sofa. Sam approached it stealthily, careful not to make any noise. He hovered uncertainly, above the sofa, before he swerved in front of it in a single, cat-like movement.

"Sammy, is that you?" Dean mumbled from beneath the couch cushions. He opened one eye and saw his giant brother crouching above him, with a knife in his hand and he yelled out.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam yelled back. He put the knife away. "Why are you sitting here alone, in the dark? Where's Ben?"

Dean sat up, rubbing his eyes, "I don't know, in his room, I s'pose."

Sam eyed the numerous empty beer bottles on the coffee table and frowned, "What have you been up to?"

Dean sat in guilty silence. Sam sat down beside his brother, "Anything you want to tell me?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably and started talking, narrating the interchange between him and Ben earlier in the afternoon. Sam listened, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed, in typical Sammy fashion till Dean was done.

"Well, that was that. Oh, and then he ran to his room, shouting that he hates me." Dean finished, raising his eyes and turning to look towards his brother.

"He doesn't hate you." said Sam consolingly. "He's just upset. He doesn't understand…"

"What's there to not understand? He can't have a séance on his birthday! And of course he hates me. I'm a terrible father. And looking at how things turned out between you and Dad…"

"Dean!" Sam cut in, "I didn't hate Dad. And Ben doesn't hate you. And you are not a terrible father!"

Dean turned his face away, unconvinced.

Sam sighed and continued, "You are nothing like Dad. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. The kid's six years old Dean, you have to talk to him and make him understand. How is yelling at him, and then drinking your body weight, going to help?"

Dean sighed. Sammy was right, as usual. "Alright, I'll go talk to him."

"Yeah, you do that." said Sam, getting up and clearing the beer bottles, "I'll go make dinner."

Dean got up from the sofa, trying to shake off the woozy, head-spinning feeling to make his way up the stairs.

…...

_Ben's room._

"And these are the pictures we took after our peewee dodge ball match." said Ben without a pause, flipping through his school album.

"You play dodge ball?" said Castiel, softly, smiling fondly at the child. He was sitting on Ben's bed, his back resting against some propped up pillows on the head board. His feet were outstretched and Ben's photo albums and scrap books and colouring books were spread over his lap. Ben sat next to him, his elbow on Castiel's stomach, chatting away unconcernedly.

"Yeah, I do. Why are you smiling?"

"Oh, that's nothing. You're Uncle Sammy told me a funny story once, about someone I know, knew," he said, correcting himself, "He tried playing dodge ball. He wasn't very good." finished Castiel, in all seriousness.

Ben stopped smiling, shutting his school album. "I probably won't be allowed to play on the team any more." he sighed, "I think I'm grounded for life, after what I did…"

"What did you do?" said Castiel, flipping through one of Ben's colouring books.

"I told Dad I hate him." said Ben, his eyes lowered. He was not proud of it.

Castiel tilted his head to one side, "Why would you say that?"

"Because…" Ben launched into the story of the altercation between him and his father earlier that day.

Castiel listened intently, nodding his head, without comment. When Ben was done, he turned to look at the child, he bright, blue eyes piercing his gaze.

"Your father is right Ben. You cannot have a séance. It is much too dangerous and you are far too young." Ben pouted, looking unhappy with Castiel's opinion. Castiel paused, studying the child's disappointed face before continuing, "And it will not make your mother happy." he ended softly.

Ben's big, pale, green eyes looked up at Castiel, "Are you _sure_, Cas?"

"Disturbing her spirit will do no good, Ben." Castiel sighed, "You must apologize to your father."

"No." said Ben in a small voice, burying his head in Castiel's side.

"Ben, your father is a good man. And things have never been easy for him. He didn't have a mother either. His father, your grandfather John, was a very difficult…different man. At your age your father had no one to look after him. Instead, he had to look after your Uncle Sammy. Ben, look at me," Castiel continued, " You have your father and your Uncle, and Bobby too, sometimes. And they are doing the best they can."

"Why don't _you_ stay? Please, Cas, I want you to stay…"

"Ben," said Castiel softly, his voice heavy, "I _can't_…I. How about I sing you something?" he said in a desperate bid to distract the child.

"Cas, I'm six years old!" Ben said exasperatedly.

"So? You used to like my songs…"

"Only the ones in Enochian."

"How do you even understand them?" said Castiel, drawing Ben closer and putting an arm around him.

"I don't. I just like the sound." Ben said, looking up at Castiel.

Castiel began to hum softly. He picked up the first tunes of a song. It appeared tuneless, but Ben managed to catch a rhythm and began to tap his fingers slowly with it. Castiel leaned in to kiss the top of Ben's head softly.

There was a soft knock on the door and it swung open. Castiel ceased his singing abruptly just as Dean walked in, "Ben, I…"

Dean froze at the door frame. At first he felt his eyes were deceiving him. Perhaps the beer had gone to his head. His eyes widened, his throat dried up. He felt the blood rushing to his head and beads of sweat collected on his forehead.

"Cas?" he said quietly at the figure on the bed. His voice sounded scratchy and unusually high-pitched. Ben wriggled out from under Castiel's shoulder and clambered off the bed.

"Hello, Dean." said Castiel simply.

Ben bounded up to his father, and pulled at his shirt, "Dad, I'm sorry." he said mournfully.

"Yes, I'm sorry too." mumbled Dean, his head bursting with a billion questions. "When did you get here? How did you…" he said incredulously, his questions directed at the angel.

"Dad? Am I grounded?" said Ben, still tugging at his shirt.

"What? No. I mean, yes. I mean, I don't know. Go downstairs and help Dinner cook Uncle Sammy…I mean Uncle Sammy cook dinner. I'll be a minute…" said Dean incoherently.

Ben hugged Dean tightly, his tiny frame reaching his father's waist and bounded off happily. Dean felt his son's arms slip out of his own hands and heard the boy's footsteps pounding down the stairs, not taking his eyes off the angel.

Castiel had put down the colouring book. He got up from the bed.

"Cas. What the hell." said Dean, his voice still flaky.

"Dean, we can't talk here. I have to go." said Castiel walking towards the door and towards Dean.

"No!" said Dean with more force than he intended. He raised an arm to block the doorframe.

"Dean, get out of the way." said Castiel, a hint of warning in his voice.

"Months. I called you for _months_. Where in the devil's name were you?" snarled Dean, anger boiling inside him.

"Dean," said Castiel softly, sounding tired all of a sudden, "I can't do this right now."

"Oh, you can't do this right now? You show up on my doorstep after a _year_ and you think you can just walk away? Again? Oh no, mister. You got to answer some questions."

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" Castiel muttered.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" snapped Dean, as Castiel advanced, his nose inches away from his.

"Oh, relax." said Castiel rolling his eyes. He leaned forward and pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead.

…...

_In the shed behind the house._

"What was that all about?" sputtered Dean as he turned around to survey his surroundings. Castiel had transported them to the shed behind his house.

"This is where you keep your equipment, I trust?" said the angel.

Dean nodded slowly.

"Good. May I borrow a knife? I didn't bring one along"

Dean went inside, frowning. Less than a minute later he came out, a knife in his hand. It caught the light of the moon and gleamed.

Castiel took it from him and slammed the door of the shed shut. He rolled back one of his sleeves and proceeded to slice his forearm till he drew blood. He handed the knife back to Dean and dabbed his fingers in the blood and began to draw curious, circular designs on the door of the shed.

"Why are you drawing a sigil?" breathed Dean.

"I'm not supposed to be here. As soon as they realise I'm missing, they'll come looking for me. And you have questions. So I have to keep them at bay." said Castiel quietly, finishing off the sigil with his practiced hand.

Dean looked at the angel, frowning. His head was teaming with questions. He didn't even know where to start. Castiel had finished drawing the sigil. He turned around to face Dean.

"What do you want to know?" he prompted Dean.

"How about you start from the beginning. Where have you been all these months?" said Dean, drawing his breath slowly, willing himself to not lose his temper.

"In heaven." came Castiel's prompt reply.

"Why didn't you come when I called?" Dean went on.

"I…" Castiel hesitated for a brief second, "I was no longer obligated to respond to your call. Michael relieved me of your charge, and of Ben's guardianship, the day of the final battle."

"Michael? He's behind all this? Cas, why didn't you tell me?" said Dean, agitatedly.

Castiel rolled his eyes, again, "As if Michael could ever force me into doing something I didn't want to." He paused, "I made a deal with Michael. He would take a gamble and follow me into that house. He had a one-off chance of finding and defeating Lucifer in there. In return, he wanted me off the case, for good."

"So Michael got to have his cake and eat it too? And you said, 'yes' to that?" said Dean incredulously.

"I had no choice Dean! It was the only way of saving Ben." Castiel retorted.

"How come you came today?" said Dean, changing tracks.

"Ben called me." said Castiel simply, "I had orders not to respond, but I couldn't ignore him. His heart is pure and his prayers, true."

"So, that's it? . All of a sudden, you're too good for the likes of me? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" growled Dean.

"Dean, don't be like that." said Castiel, tilting his head slightly.

"No!" said Dean forcefully, his hands in his pocket. There was a nip in the air and it was making him feel chilly. Castiel's patronising attitude was really riling him up. "I called for months. I was alone. With a kid! Who I had no idea how to raise! If Sammy hadn't turned down Stanford to stay on here and help me out, I would have…"

"What are you cribbing about?" Castiel snapped. "You had Sam…"

"But where were you?" Dean said, raising his voice.

"I was there Dean. Right next to you. For seven years, and you never noticed, not once." said Castiel, maintaining his composure. Yet, there was a subtle change in his voice. Dean noticed it and frowned.

"What's this about?" said Dean, his voice softening.

"Do you remember, you were told once that the moment I laid a hand on you in hell, I was lost?" said Castiel.

"Yeah, so?" said Dean, his lips pursed.

"It was true." said Castiel simply. "It was all over in a second, for me. By the time I had raised you, I had already fallen, in every sense." There was a rough edge to his voice, as if he was cracking a joke, on himself.

Dean looked at Castiel's face. The angel wore a bemused expression. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

"What?" Dean egged him.

Castiel shook his head. "What's the point of this conversation now, Dean?"

"No, no. Go on. Say whatever you have to say." said Dean, a steely edge to his voice.

"I have nothing to say. From perdition to purgatory, I was there, Dean. Where were you?" said Castiel

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean snapped in response.

"It means that time and again I have put myself out on a limb for you, and you! You never even cared…"

"Now, hold on…" Dean interrupted.

"You never noticed!" Castiel went on, ignoring Dean, "I killed angels and demons and humans. I disobeyed, I rebelled, I _fell _for _you_. I gave everything for you, and you…" Castiel paused for a second, "You didn't care." he ended, shaking his head slightly.

"Cas, I…" Dean muttered.

"I am an angel. When I first came to earth, you really think I cared about humans? Or the whole host of new trouble they had invited upon themselves? You think I had nothing better to do than sacrifice my entire identity, my entire existence to help out a race of morally inferior beings? I fought your battles alongside you, Dean, and did you for one second stop to think, why?"

"What d'you mean, 'why'? That part's obvious." said Dean taken aback.

"You thought I was doing it for this 'cause' you believed in, didn't you?"

"You mean…" Dean stammered.

'I didn't care!" Castiel bellowed, "It was your word against my father's. Your family against mine. I saved Sam instead of keeping my word to my dead sister. I lied for you, and your brother. I betrayed everyone. I was forced back home and tortured. I saw Raphael beat the crap out of Lysander, because of me. I ruined everything! And, and I did it for you, and did it ever strike you?" Castiel's cheeks were flushed. His hair was unruly and messed up. His vessel was taking in short, shallow breaths. His pulse was racing. For an angel, he was having an extremely human reaction to this argument.

"Cas, please." Dean pleaded. His green eyes, full of sadness, taking in the change in the angel.

"Every time you were given a choice, you chose Sam. You chose Bobby. And Lisa. And Ben. Every time, every time you had to make a choice you chose them over me. And I tried to understand," Castiel said pacing up and down in front of Dean, "I tried telling myself that it was the right decision because deep down I knew it was. But I am angel, and I can't think like humans. And all I could see was the man I had fallen in love with, being so bloody oblivious to everything but himself…"

"Wait, what?" Dean cried.

"And all the angels, they had warned me this would happen. But I refused to believe them. I waited and waited, hoping that Dean, the righteous man, would come around, some day. But of course, my brothers and sisters were right…"

"They knew? The angels knew?" said Dean, the look of horror piling up on his face.

"Of course they knew!" Castiel shrieked, "Everyone knew. Other than you." he added, shrugging. He had stopped pacing.

"Cas…" Dean said, in a small voice.

"What?" Castiel snapped, whirling around.

Dean almost flinched. Tears were stinging his eyes, how the hell did those get there? He wanted to say something to the angel, anything. But for the first time, that evening, he was at a loss for words.

"What?" Castiel reiterated.

"I…" Dean's throat was parched. He cleared it, and tried again, "Why didn't you tell me?" he breathed.

For the first time, Castiel's expression changed. He was no longer livid. There was no trace of fury on his face. The bright, blue fire in his eyes, died down quickly. "Because," he said, his voice cracking, "I thought you didn't care." His voice was as low and deathly as a whisper. A shadow of doubt had overtaken his face and he lowered his grief-stricken eyes.

Dean took a step towards the angel and grabbed his shoulders roughly, "How could you think that?" he said, his voice thick with emotion, "Come on, Cas, look at me!" he said angrily, shaking the angel.

Castiel shook his head and looked away instead. "I know you didn't care" he went on sadly, "That's why I left. That's why I didn't come even when you called."

"Cas. No." said Dean, his hands slipping to his side, limply.

"I'm sorry. About the last thirteen months." Castiel said, "I don't know why I apologize any more. Most of all to you. Force of habit, I reckon." the angel rambled. ''But that's not of import. I'm sorry I never showed up, but you brought it upon yourself. I felt bad that you were waiting for me, even when I was not going to come. And I just thought, that maybe I owe you an explanation. So here I am. And now, you know." Castiel finished, his low voice, hurt and broken.

"Cas." Dean said stupidly.

Castiel proceeded to ignore him, just as he had been for the majority of the conversation, "So, that's that.' he said awkwardly, "I'll be on my way." he paused, "You will never see me again, Dean. And don't worry, this time I'll keep my word." the angel turned around.

"Cas." Dean said, a hint of urgency in his voice. He strode towards the angel and gripped his shoulder and turned him around. The angel turned, involuntarily at his touch.

Dean put both his hands on the angel's face and kissed him full on the lips. He didn't think, he didn't weigh his options. He just closed his eyes and went for it. Castiel was taken aback by Dean's sudden advance, but the startled angel parted his lips almost as if in reflex. His hands moved up to grip Dean's shoulders tightly.

"Cas." Dean moaned into Castiel's mouth. Cas mumbled something incoherent in response. One of his hands had moved to the small of Dean's back.

"Cas, please." said Dean between short pauses, where his voice came out husky, and his breath, ragged. "Cas, please stay. Don't go. _Please_." he said desperately.

How he had missed him. How he had missed the presence of the angel. The comfort of Castiel being by his side at all times. The nearness, their comfortable co-existence. The past year had burnt a hole in his heart, a Castiel-shaped hole where the angel had taken root in his life and where Dean was left with a gaping, raw wound. A hollow that the angel had once occupied and could never be re-filled. And here he was, once again, miraculously healed, miraculously whole, again.

His tongue darted inside the angel's mouth, exploring every wonderful nook and cranny. Cas tasted wonderful, Dean thought, different and special. One of his hands, slid down to Castiel's shoulder and gripped it tight. The other moved to the back of his head, near the nape of his neck. He wanted this, Dean realised. He_ so_ wanted this. He couldn't believe he hadn't done this before. Everything was fucking fireworks and violin music. As with everything else they had done together, they were in perfect synchronisation, perfect harmony. It was as if in that one intimate moment, Castiel's one year of absence was forgotten. All that mattered was that he was here now, with Dean, who had no intention of ever letting him get away.

"I…" Castiel breathed, his words almost slurring, "I…I have a lot of explaining to do. To my superiors." he added.

Dean stopped, looking at Castiel in all seriousness. Their foreheads were touching, their noses inches away from each other. One of Castiel's hands were resting lightly on Dean's hand, the one that was behind his neck. "You'll stay?" Dean asked the angel, not looking away.

"Only…" Castiel did not finish his words. Dean knew what the angel had to say…_only if you want me to_.

"I want nothing more." Dean said, cutting in. He licked his lips before placing them on Castiel's again. Before he knew it, he had effortlessly pushed the angel, back up against the door of the shed. Castiel felt as light as a feather to Dean, as he pinned him against the door. The door, stained with the blood-smeared sigil, seeped into Castiel's trench coat. Their hands, their hips, their lips moved in unison. Brown leather jacket on beige trench coat, jeans on trouser pants, skin on skin.

The cold wind howled and wrapped itself around the righteous man and the angel of Thursday. Dean remained oblivious of it, his pale, green eyes fixed on the angel's bright, blue ones. Nothing could break the serendipity of this moment…

"Dad! Cas! Come here now! Uncle Sammy doesn't believe that Castiel's here even though I _swore_ I wasn't lying!" Ben's shrill voice rang out from inside the house.

Dean sighed, disentangling his hands from Castiel. He looked at the angel, his eyes boring into his. "Come inside." he said softly. It was a request.

Castiel bent his head slightly and nodded. Dean placed a quick kiss on his lips before straightening his tie and collar and pulling down the lapels of his trench coat. He linked his arm through the angel's and pulled him along, walking towards the house.

Castiel turned his head slightly to steal a glance towards the man next to him. He looked resolute, happy, and at peace. Yet his brow was furrowed with the slightest of frowns. And Castiel mirrored his concern. They may have chosen each other now, but a lot of difficult choices lay ahead for the both of them.

But, Castiel thought, as it always was with him and Dean, they would cross the bridge when it came and make it up along the way as they went.


End file.
